When Russia Met a State!
by Roxburry Black
Summary: A knock on the door reveals a cheerful teen who wears an odd uniform and name, a cheerful teen who demands to taste some of Russia's famous Soviet Union pickles. As they talk Russia spirals even deeper in confusion. Who is this strange and why does she act like a combo of his two leaste favoreite nations.


How Russia meet the States ( I do not own Hetalia)

Russia was sitting in his living room, enjoying a lovely glass of vodka when there came knocking from the door.

It was not just any knocking, it was demanding, impatient and the person on the other side of the door was not wanting to be kept waiting. Narrowing his purple eyes in annoyance he stood up, grabbed his pipe and made his way to the door. With a vicious tug he pulled the door open, ready to cream whoever was knocking in such an irritating manner.

"WHAT?" he snarled and stopped. This was not what he was expecting. Standing on his front steps was a girl, a teenager to be precise, only about 16 or 17 and the most astonishing fact was she had long silver hair and ruby red eyes. There was only one person in the world like that and he was a male. Unless England had messed up a spell again and he had been turned into a girl.

"Prussia?"Asked Russia, lowering his pipe, a little more than confused, "Is that you?" The girl huffed in anger and looked him straight in the eyes and Russia got the feeling he was very wrong.

"Nien," she snapped, tossing her long hair over her fur lined parka that looked a little old fashioned, she stomped her booted feet into the crunchy snow, "Are you going to let me unawesomely freeze or are you going to let me in?" She demanded. Her voice practically oozed arrogance and demanded respect and obidience at the same time.

Still stunned Russia moved to the side, allowing the girl to pass into the front hall, she swept passed him and Russia's confusion mounted.

He followed her into the living room where she pulled off the parka to reveal a crisp uniform. It wasn't like any he had ever seen. Tan slacks with a tan shirt. On her right shoulder was an American flag patch and on her left was was strange flag with two black lions and an egale. Wrapped around her biscep was an red armband with a black '2' embroidered on it.

"Who are you," he demanded and the black aura of death gathered around him.

"Kesesesese," she chuckled and she put her hands on her hips, "Chill out. You know, for the largest nation in the world your house really sucks. Cold and miserable," she gave her strange laugh and Russia got very confused. "So my mutti told me you've got some pretty awesome pickles. Ones that date back to your commie days."

"Da, so?" Russia eased his grip on the pipe as she wandered around his living room, poking everything. He winced as she picked up a particularly valuable egg and tossed it carelessly back to where she had found it.

"I want some," she said and Russia was floored then one fact became glaringly obvious.

"How did you know...?"

"What, that you're the unawesome embodiment of Russia. Get some pickles, I'll explain." Mind reeling he went to the basement to grab a jar of pickles, wondering why he was leaving an unidentified person in his living room.

When he returned she had wandered into the kitchen and was currently rummaging through the cabinets.

'What are you doing?" he demanded and she pulled a fork from his dry dishes rack.

"Looking for other foods, you have to much unawesome vodka," she commented airily and plucked the jar out of his numb fingers. He watched as she unskrewed the lid and pulled out a pickle. The girl took a bite and chewed slowly, exploring the taste and Russia was a little fearful of her response. With wide red eyes she turned to face him and exclaimed. "Mien gott, these are AWESOME." She fist pumped and proceeded to demolish a few more, meanwhile, Russia was getting frustrated.

"Who are you," he demanded pulling the jar from her hands and she squawked in annoyance.

"Chill man, give those back," she whinned but Russia held them out of reach.

"Explain. Now." He said with his creepy smile still in place. The girl didn't deflate or look defeated, instead she frowned at him for a moment.

"I am the awesome state of Pennsylvania," Russia's eyes widened and his hands went limp. The pickles would have crashed to the ground if the girl, Pennsylvania had not caught them, cackling.

"You are a state?" Russia didn't want to believe it, he really didn't.

"Ja," she pointed to her various patches, "this is vati's flag, this is my flag and this is my number. I'm also known as Gillian Belidishmidt Jones. Gillbird should be around here somewhere," a chirp came from the living room and a little ball of fluff streaked into the room. While the girl reunited with her pet Russia's head was reeling.

'Why do you look like Prussia?" he asked, eyes narrowed. The girl stopped eating for a moment to answer.

"Prussia is my awesome Mutti, America is my awesome Vati." She said as if it were the most obvious fact in the world.

"Excuse me," Russia said hurridly and he ran up to his office. Dialing the emergancy line that would connect him to America he waited impatiently for him to picked up.

"Hello?" America's voice was sleep and he sounded alarmed.

"Comrade."

"Russia?" America asked, sounding confused, 'What's up?"

"I have a girl in my kitchen claiming to be the state of Pennsylvania," his words rushed out a little to quickly and he flinched as America roared.

"WHAT?"

"Da, I am confused could you please explain,"

America ignored him, "Get that girl on the phone now." He snarled and Russia ran down the staircase and found the girl flipping through the channels, muching happily on her pickles.

"America," he said and Gillian's face turned pasty white and her eyes widened with fear, he tossed her the cell phone and she took it with trembling fingers.

"Ja?" Russia couldn't hear what America was saying but it was clearly bad enough to make this girl shake with fear.

"Ja vati," she said weakly, trying to sink into the couch as if America were standing right next to her, "Ja, I'll leave as soon as possible. Auf wiedersein vati," she clicked the phone off and handed it wearily off to him.

"Should I not have called him?" Russia asked, still confused and Pennsylvania nodded.

"Vati is so unawesome when it comes to states meeting nations. He's got a super strict rule about visting Nations and no one has ever broken it yet."

"Until you," pointed out Russia and the state nodded.

"Until me, I better get going," she stood up and grabbed her coat.

"Why?" Russia watched as she got ready to leave.

Pennsylvania looked over her shoulder as she opened the door, "I know you guys don't take him seriously but if he's not someone to trifle with if he's mad." Russia was quiet for several minutes after she left. Reconsidering everything he knew and remembered about America. He remembered what the western nation had been like during the Cold War and several thing suddenly made sense. Grabbing a bottle of vodka he ran up to his bed and huddled under his covers, shivering in fear.


End file.
